Unconventional
by Beboots
Summary: Alternate Universe. Aviators and Naval officers do frequent some of the same circles, and cross paths more often than you’d expect. Great Britain, despite what its people want you to think, is still a small country. Jane/Laurence


**Unconventional** by Beboots

* * *

Summary: Alternate Universe. Aviators and Naval officers do frequent some of the same circles, and cross paths more often than you'd think. Great Britain, despite what its people want you to think, is still a small country. A what-if, Jane Roland and William Laurence story.

* * *

"_Do not fret, Laurence; I promise you no one will be suspicious. I have made a cake of myself in public a dozen times, and no one ever thought me an aviator for it." _

-Jane Roland, _Empire of Ivory_

* * *

The first time William Laurence met Jane Roland, she had managed to tangle her skirts on a chair at the Admiral's Ball of 1803. He had been making his way over to greet an acquaintance at the same table, only to find everyone else there politely trying to not notice the woman's difficulty in getting up. She had somehow managed to trap the hem of her skirt beneath the chair's leg, but couldn't see it for the volume of her skirts. She was in danger of tearing the material, the way she was tugging at them.

Without much thinking of it, Laurence approached, said "pardon me, madam," and lifted the chair slightly to pull it back, freeing her. Immediately, the consternated look on her face gave way to mild annoyance, then relief. Laurence smiled at her, and she smiled at him, then asked him to dance.

Laurence insisted on an introduction, first, but then how could he argue?

It only occurred to him later (after having his feet trodden on in a succession of dances, and she had taken her leave of him) that he hadn't been introduced to her husband.

She couldn't have been at the Admiral's Ball unescorted, after all.

* * *

The second time Laurence met Jane, he was on shore leave in Dover, on his way back from presenting his latest report to the representatives of the admiralty: a necessary if regrettably boring formality. It was miserably rainy out, and Laurence had been hurrying along, hoping that his uniform wouldn't be ruined by the wet, and had nearly tripped over Jane, who _had_ just tripped on her sodden skirts.

He offered her his arm (what else could he do?) and offered to escort her to her destination. She instead asked him to take her to a coffeehouse – to have a warm drink and get out of this abominable rain, as she put it. Laurence didn't think it quite proper, but who was he to argue with a lady? … Especially one with such a forceful personality.

She had a rather mannish stride, he noticed, and he soon discovered that she had a wonderful, hearty laugh.

It occurred to him only afterwards that he still didn't know her husband's name, or even profession. Between the coffee and the conversation and the good humour in her eyes, it had never come up.

* * *

The third time Laurence met Jane, it was at the Battle of the Nile, and she had a bloody sword-wound on her face. She had also just descended on his ship on dragonback for medical treatment. She was also wearing pants.

To his credit, Laurence reacted quite calmly, calling out for his ship's surgeon immediately to attend to her and her… the dragon's crew.

Later on, after the battle was over and the ringing of cannon fire had faded from their ears, they managed to find time to talk. The surgeon had ordered Jane to stay in bed, regardless, so she had free time at her disposal: time enough for an explanation, at least.

Laurence felt scandalized that women were allowed – no, _encouraged_ – into the aerial corps. Luckily, he controlled his expression, and Roland's closest eye was covered in bandages anyway, and so she hadn't seen him make a fool of himself.

It was also at their third meeting that Laurence learned she had no husband. Coincidentally, Roland also let him call her "Jane." She had started calling him "William" without being asked, but that was all right.

They decided to form a correspondence, although considering the fact that he was more often than not on a ship located anywhere from the Atlantic to the Indian Ocean, and she was more often than not patrolling an almost equally wide-ranging space, they might not be able to correspond very quickly.

It was also at this meeting that Laurence was formally introduced to a dragon for the first time. Laurence was only a little bit scared, but he was nothing if not polite. Excidium proved to be a surprisingly good conversationalist, for all that he was not human.

Laurence had to admit, later on, that the trousers suited Jane more than skirts ever had.

* * *

The fourth time Laurence met Jane, it was at the officer's club at Loch Laggan. He had just arrived and had seen Temeraire settled, and had been directed to the officer's club by a helpful servant.

He had arrived just as dinner was getting started, and had the awkward experience of having all eyes turn to him at once. At a quick glance, he couldn't spot a single familiar face amongst them… Laurence hated self-introductions. He flushed, feeling awkward in the unfamiliar bottle-green uniform of the aerial corps, resisting the urge to check to make sure his neck cloth was still properly tied.

He was saved from this awkward staring by a sudden voice: "William! So you're the navy clodpole we've been hearing so much about!"

And there was Jane, sitting at one end of the table, in that scandalous uniform of the aerial corps, face scarred, laughing her unique and almost familiar hearty laugh. "Come on, sit down! You don't want everyone thinking you're just a stiff navy man. Honestly."

Jane literally manhandled some of the men on her bench into squeezing room for Laurence. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Jane," Laurence said. What else could he say? It was true.

"Did you know, I was actually thinking of asking you for advice in my next letter on how to deal with uptight navy officers?" She laughed. "And here I find that the officer who snatched himself a dragon was you!"

These words, coming from anybody else's mouth, would have been the height of insolence. A fatal insult. But coming from Jane? Laurence could accept it for what it was: amicability.

This closeness, this casualness… They suited her – like that bottle-green uniform.

Laurence supposed he could grow used to that too.


End file.
